Category / One-sentence Stories

One-Sentence Stories

Red Heel Strut Katrina Byrd @ovenhot On a recent day in early April, a short, brown-skinned woman with a large Afro, a funky strut, and an attitude as real as her love for feathers, entered a shoe store just as a bald man in blue jeans pulled a gun from his back pocket and pointed […]

One-Sentence Stories

Christmas In July Shannon Ready When mom left us, dad said she went up to the North Pole to do some marketing work for Santa Claus and she’d be back as soon as her contract was up, so now every time one of those used car commercials comes on advertising Christmas in July, I say […]

One-Sentence Stories

Other Kinds of Freezing Jennifer Popa Rick left a bag of apples we’d picked in October in the lazy Susan of his almost-furnished apartment, the dodgy place he rented on Goddard Street, and by Christmas we discovered they were still there, but not until I’d spent the weekend fixated on the fruit flies they attracted—it […]

One-Sentence Stories

Primitivity Amy Sayre Baptista Melvina said all her best recipes, and the two marriages that worked, began with an axe.   One of a Kind Scott Nadelson When I claimed it was no big deal that you gave away my favorite jacket—brown leather, wide lapels, bought in a vintage store long shuttered—that I’d be able […]

  Trouble Katie M. Flynn The cyber crimes he’d committed hadn’t been as bad as the BuzzFeed piece suggested, but when she read it, her heart palpitated in a surprising way, knowing he was probably cyber stalking her while they went on a series of bland dinner dates followed by gelato, a walk, a fumbled […]

  Gratification William Hamel Karl’s fingers turned into penises on his 40th birthday, and a few months later he finally won his county’s annual bowling tournament.   An Optometrist’s Uncertain Self-Diagnosis (or, The Convenient Deception of Eyes, when the Topic of Racism is Avoided in a Passive Voice) Craig Sanders Maybe I’ve been colorblind since […]

  Showing Him Lou Gaglia Sobbing, she drew his big stupid face on the old oak tree, then smashed into it with their ‘64 Rambler.   Tuesday, 3 PM, Munich Charlie Hill Tomas’ bloodshot eyes darted from side to side, sweat beading off his pallid forehead as he gave a silent, desperate cry for help; […]

Maybe it did,
Leigh Herrick

your death, take these things and having it done now, saying finished, over, transitioned, free, is only false hiatus of real time out-of-focus except for the journey babe, the journey being this train now, train like thoughts of regret that is mere in memory except for moments like this as car after car

  Good Times Brandon Wells “No, I never read that Brave New World book,” she said, stopping to take her daily Zoloft, Vicodin, Adderal, Aspirin, Xanax, Librium, Lortab, Lasix, Phentermine, and one of those emergency contraception pills because last night had been a little too fun, “is it any good?”   One Convenience Store Clerk’s […]

  There’s Only One Thing I Know To Be True Chris Lee Funeral homes have terrible coffee.   CliffsNotes for Whitman’s “Song of Myself” (or, How to Pare Down 52 Stanzas Into One) Cindy Hochman Uh- Grass. Workmen. Equality. Yawp, yawp, yawp. Boot soles. Any questions?   Upon Reexamination Rachel Buker “This is why you […]

  Star Wars: Episode VII April Selley Han caught a glimpse of Leia, her hair still shaped into cinnamon buns—though frosted now with grey—and thought of how hot and cross she still was after thirty-five years.   Emergency Exit Chris Wiewiora You say you saw feathers poof out of the jet; and so, you opened […]

  Corner Bakery Carleen Tibbetts I was thinking, “This soup smells like gym class,” when you asked why the ring wasn’t on my finger, but it came out “I could never be your wife,” as I told you, numb-gummed, that you were persona non-grata.   Why She Always Wore Pants After the Divorce Lauren Wheeler […]

One-Sentence Stories

  Dimensions Steve Russomano The greater part of the crowd was preoccupied with the macaws and birds-of-paradise, leaving me ample room to bond with the Dodos in the mural   There I Lay Jorge Piocuda There I lay, blood pumping out of my body, like a water hose that was recently turned on, and as […]